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We’ve all heard of Hot or Not — the premeire place on the web to stare at strangers and judge them based on their looks. It’s like a virtual singles bar, without the booze — but with about the same chance of getting laid at the end of the night.

I spent a bit of time recently cruising around Hot or Not. A few people that I e-know started up a scoreboard as as a sort of contest. ‘Fabulous prizes’ were (facetiously) offered for pics garnering the highest and lowest scores for each gender. Being the strategic sort of hideous disfigured troll guy that I am, I figured that I’d shoot for the bottom of the spectrum.

I succeeded. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I’d hoped. Nobody ever said winning was pretty. Also? No fabulous prizes — like, for instance, my dignity back — appear to be forthcoming. Not so much worth it.

Anyway, it occurred to me that judging people on a 1-to-10 scale isn’t terribly interesting. For one thing, you really don’t use the ends mich. I mean, to rate a perfect ’10’, a girl would have to be hot. Like, napalm hot. And in my house. And made of beer, or something. And to deserve a ‘1’… well, I don’t know. A ‘1’ is just mean, you know what I’m saying? I’ve seen some ugly people on that site — wrinkly people, beady-eyed people, piggy-nosed people, Dumbo-eared people, me — but no one that rates a ‘1’. Not in my book, anyway. A girl getting a ‘1’ would have to be pretty damned horrific. And with a penis. Like, growing out of her face somewhere. Yow.

Mostly, though, all this shallow evaluation of peoples’ looks reminds me of the good old days back in high school and college. Back then, we had much cooler ways to rate people. And we were horny, disgusting little piggies, so we used our systems all the time. Just for instance:

The Binary System

The simplest of all systems — ‘yes’ for yes, and ‘no’ for no. Only it didn’t work very well for this one friend — he was the piggliest disgusting perv of any of us. So there was only ever one answer.

Me: Her?

Him: Yeah.

Me: How ’bout her?

Him: Definitely.

Me: That one?

Him: Oh, yeah. Twice, if there’s time.

Me: How ’bout her mom over there?

Him: Yup.

Me: The grandma?

Him: Yeah.

Me: The dog? That squirrel? The mailbox?

Him: Yes. Yes. And ‘hellooooo, mailman‘.

Me: Dude. Can you just… go stand way the hell over there somewhere?

Him: Whatever. How you doin’?

Yes, apparently I hung with Glen Quagmire in my younger days. That’s how I rolled back in the day. Giggitygiggitygoo.

The Hurts So Good System

I can’t say exactly how many separate ratings were in this system. We started innocently enough, saying ‘ouch!‘ when a pretty girl walked by. But that was too easy. Next, it was ‘yeowtch!‘, which was better, and ‘owie‘, which was not quite so good. Soon, we were calling for ‘ambulance!‘, and ‘medic‘, and — during one rather memorable trip to the beach — ‘get the paddles, I see a white light, it’s a heart attack — CLEAR!‘

In hindsight, I probably should have waited for her rather large boyfriend to get out of earshot. As it happened, I almost needed those paddles, after all.

The Heavenly Body System

This one was easy. Nine planets — no, the tenth wasn’t discovered yet, but yes, we knew about Pluto when I was a kid, thank you so much for asking, doucheweasel — and the closer to the sun, the hotter. This led to conversations like:

Piggy Me: Dude. Mercury at ten o’clock.

Piggy Friend: Mercury? Please. Venus, at best. More like Saturn.

Piggy Me: Bah, you never liked redheads.

Piggy Friend: Yeah, but how about that girl?

Piggy Me: Pffft. I wouldn’t do her with your dick. Or ‘Uranus’.

Yes, we were idiots. And that’s just a taste, I’m afraid. There was also:

And my personal favorite, The Bill of Rights System: ‘Daaaaamn. That girl’s just got a ‘freedom of speech’ face, but her body’s got a ‘right to bear arms’. Bam!‘

Okay, I may have made that last one up. And the Snow White thing. We were pigs, though. I’m pretty sure I don’t have to convince you any further of that, eh? Dammit. Why you gotta get all ‘Jupiter’ on me?